


Darkness Swarming

by Tifer14



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Criminal Minds
Genre: BAMF!Reid, F/M, M/M, Vampires, hints of Emily/Willow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 11:37:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4303434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tifer14/pseuds/Tifer14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As an unsettling darkness swarms in the skies, Aaron Hotchner will have to confront his demons as well as the fact that the world holds more than he has ever dreamed of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Of course, I own neither Criminal Minds nor Buffy. Sigh.

As his eyes were starting to strain to see the endless lines of bureaucratic legalese, Aaron Hotchner reached for his small desk lamp. How long had he been going over this report? He wondered and glanced at his watch. It was only three in the afternoon but he glanced out of his window and saw the sky was already dimming to a murky black. In July. In fact, the darkness seemed to be, he wanted to say swarming but that was ridiculous. Spencer would certainly have excitedly informed him this morning, and every morning for the past two weeks, if there was meant to be an eclipse. The unnatural darkness made him uncomfortably uneasy in a way he hadn’t experienced since Foyet had been stalking Hayley. Even his scars seemed to itch and burn.

 

Glancing through his open blinds to the bullpen he quickly made an inventory of his team. Morgan was leaning back perched on the edge of Prentiss’ desk while she attempted to ignore his teasing of Reid and finish her report which, he knew, had been due on his desk at nine this morning. Spencer was becoming increasingly flustered by whatever Morgan was saying as his neck practically glowed pink. From the furtive glances that Spencer was casting in the direction of his office, he could guess that their relationship was the clandestine subject of Morgan’s teasing. The team had been unanimously supportive of them when they had ‘come out’ a few months ago and had agreed to help the couple keep things from the powers that be. However, Morgan still loved ribbing Reid at every chance he got. Everything was painfully normal. No one else seemed to have noticed the encroaching darkness, though that could be attributed to the lack of windows in the bullpen.

 

“Hey Reid!” Hotch heard Rossi shout from the gangway. “Is there an eclipse today or something?” So apparently, he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed. Hotch stepped out of his office in time to hear Reid replying in the negative.

 

“So what’s with the blackout?” Just as Rossi finished his sentence, the overhead lights in the bullpen flickered and died. No one screamed. They were FBI agents for god’s sake. But Hotch heard the click click click of several guns being un-holstered, including his own.

 

“Everyone remain calm. The back-up generator will kick in momentarily,” Hotch announced to the pitch black room. He could hear Spencer’s tiny whimper at the darkness and hoped his voice would provide some comfort. With a whir of computers the lights powered back on and everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief, though only for a moment. The elevators dinged in the ominous silence. The doors slid open. Outstepped three men with what Hotch could only describe as horrific facial disfigurement. They seemed to be smiling and revealing razor sharp incisors as they stalked towards the glass doors of the BAU.

 

“Dinner time, boys” the leader announced as the doors swung open and shattered from the force with which they were pushed. He grabbed a dark-haired female agent—maybe Agent Sheer or Sheen something like that Hotch thought—and seemed to sink his teeth into her neck like a vampire. There’s no such thing as vampires. Hotch lined up and shot the leather clad man in the shoulder. He staggered from the impact but just shook it off and smiled again with dripping pink lips.

 

“Oh shit, we’re going to need some silver bullets,” Rossi muttered to his left where he stood with JJ. The team had gathered together on the gangway with the ease of years of working together. Morgan shot and hit one of the other men square in the chest but, other than a guttural growl, the man showed no ill effects and continued to stalk towards them.

 

“Silver bullets are for werewolves,” Reid helpfully supplied as he aimed for a headshot. “We need stakes.”

 

“Steaks? I don’t think now’s the time for thinking about your stomach, pretty boy” Morgan mumbled.

 

“Wooden stakes, Morgan,” Emily replied as the group backed away as a whole. “What the fuck is going on?” She added as her bullets ripped holes in the nearest man’s white shirt but otherwise left him unfazed.

 

“We need to get to Garcia’s and bunker down,” Hotch commanded and the group turned tail and ran towards the tech analyst’s lair. As one they burst through the door and locked it behind them only to be faced with a very surprised Penelope Garcia and Kevin Lynch who were distracted from the scenes of carnage on the security screens by the fact that Kevin seemed to have his hand up Penelope’s skirt.

 

“Garcia!”

 

“Baby Girl!”

 

“Kitten!”

 

Hotch, Morgan and Rossi shouted simultaneously and Kevin jumped about a foot into the air in surprise. Reid just rolled his eyes while JJ and Emily giggled.

 

“Garcia, we’ll be having a discussion about appropriate workplace conduct,” Hotch murmured as he locked and barred the door to the technical analyst’s room with a chair, “but now is really not the time. If you’d care to turn your attention to the screens behind you,” he gestured with an eyebrow, “you’ll see that the FBI is currently under attack.” The group turned to the screens and saw people lying in congealing pools of blood while others seemed to be fighting against invisible attackers. Hotch swallowed audibly, “or not.”

 

“Vampires?” Kevin muttered under his breath as he bent to get a closer look at one of the screens, tapping some keys to zoom in on the ravaged neck of one of the victims. Reid gave the young man a sharp look but any comment was interrupted by crackling interference and suddenly all the screens were filled by the image of a man sitting centre screen wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled up over his head obscuring his features.

 

“Hello, Aaron. Miss me?” A chillingly familiar voice crowed from the screen and Hotch’s blood ran cold. The figure moved further into the light pulling his hood back and removing his mask with a sallow hand. Foyet’s pale, dead eyes bored from the screen, somehow seeming to follow Aaron as he backed away from the monitors until he collided with a desk and sat heavily.

 

“You’re dead” he stated and was glad his voice sounded much firmer than he felt. All his nightmares were coming true. Foyet was back. Oh god. Foyet was going to kill Jack.

 

“You don’t believe in life after death, Aaron?” Foyet smirked and reached for the mask pulling it up and off to reveal his cold smile.

 

“I killed you. You’re dead,” Hotch reiterated.

 

“Well hallelujah it’s a miracle. Lazarus has returned from the grave,” Foyet laughed and threw his hands up in praise but his voice soon turned cold. “Don’t you dream of seeing the lovely Hayley again? Oh, no, I forgot. You don’t swing that way anymore, do you? How did you explain to your adorable little boy that Daddy’s schtupping his little protégé. Replacing his dear, dead mother with a man half your age. Can anyone say mid-life crisis?”

 

“You’re not real. You are dead.”

 

“You’re starting to sound like a broken record. I don’t remember you being this boring, Aaron. I guess absence really does make the heart grow fonder. I’m back, Aaron, and it’s all thanks to you. We’ll talk more later. Just now I have some business to attend to but I’ve got big plans for you.”

 

The connection cut and Hotch sat staring at the spinning FBI logo with his hands hanging limply in his lap. He could feel the eyes of everyone in the room boring into him. They needed him to say something. They needed him to lead but there was absolutely nothing that he could say. However, he was rescued by the most unlikely of sources. Kevin cleared his throat quietly and shuffled his feet.

 

“So I think I can explain some of this. Well, not the Reaper part but I have some experience with vampires.”

 

“Honey, I don’t think your love of Twilight really counts,” Garcia stage-whispered and patted his arm.

 

“Penny! I do not love Twilight and that is not what I’m talking about,” Kevin squeaked but his face quickly turned serious and he grabbed her hands. “You have to know that I love you. I love you so much Penelope Garcia and nothing I am about to say changes that.”

 

“You’re scaring me,” Penelope mumbled and Morgan moved towards Kevin threateningly. The bespectacled man had the attention of the entire room as he shifted awkwardly.

 

“So you should all probably know that my name isn’t really Kevin Lynch,” there was a sharp intake of breath from Garcia but the profilers remained poker-faced and Hotch continued to watch the dancing logo. “It’s Xander Harris and I’m from Sunnydale.” He paused as if this explained everything but the rest of the room’s occupants just stared at him blankly.

 

“That’s the town that fell into the sinkhole. There was an underground lake that collapsed, correct?” Reid offered while rubbing Hotch’s shoulders and attempting to catch the attention of the near catatonic man.

 

Xander examined the face of every member of the room with bewilderment, “People really bought that story?” The profilers just shrugged. “Ok. So that’s not what happened. This is going to sound crazy or maybe not so much after everything you’ve seen so far today. Sunnydale was built on a Hellmouth. I went to high school right on top of it. We had the highest mortality rate of any high school in the country but several dead students didn’t remain underground for very long. They came back. As vampires. And other stuff. Buffy is the Vampire Slayer and she was the only one until Willow activated all the potential slayers in the world and then we fought an uber-battle and...” Xander realises that he was rambling and Rossi, in particular, was looking at him as if he was crazy. Even Hotch had looked up and quirked an eyebrow. “Um, you know, I’m really not the best one to explain things. I’ll call Willow and she can come here and maybe bring Giles. He’s really good at explaining it all. One moment.”

 

After fiddling with the computer for a minute, Xander was rewarded by Willow’s vibrant hair and brilliant smile. “Hiya! Xan... Kevin,” she trailed off spotting the crowded room.

 

“It’s ok, Will. I told them, kind of. We’ve got a vamp problem here at the moment and I think it’s part of something bigger. Could you maybe come and explain everything?”

 

“Yeah, sure. I thought I was getting some major mojo from your way. Just give me a moment to tell Buffy. We were going to go visit the Sistine Chapel today but it’ll probably still be there tomorrow. Be right with you.” The screen went back to the FBI logo.

 

Rossi cleared his throat, “The Sistine Chapel is in Rome. How is she going to...” He was cut off by the sudden apparition of a leather clad red-head next to Emily. Her eyes seemed totally pupil, black swollen pools of darkness until she shook her head and gave Xander a broad grin.

 

“Hey ya!” She turned to Penelope, “Oh! You must be Penny! Xander talks about you all the time. It’s great he found someone. After Anya, we were all so worried.”

 

“Ixnay on the Anya-ne, Will,” Xander muttered while Penelope seemed to both glare and tear-up at the same time. “I promise I will explain everything, Penny. I will.” Penelope nodded and two large tears were dislodged to slide down her cheeks.

 

Willow hesitated for a moment the put on a bright smile and turned to the room of still shocked agents. “So... I’m Willow. It’s nice to meet you all.” There was a subtle shift as everyone turned to look at Hotch, expecting him to take charge but he seemed to still be frozen in place so they turned to JJ, the next best thing.

 

“I’m Agent Jareau, JJ,” she amended extending her arm. Official titles seemed superfluous with someone who had just teleported into their midst. “This is Morgan, Emily, Rossi, Hotch, and Spencer,” she introduced everyone and Spencer gave Willow a little wave.

 

“Did you just teleport here?” Spencer asked sounding slightly breathless.

 

“I’m a witch,” Willow replied as if this somehow explained everything. “So, I see that you’re overrun with vampires. We can help with that.” She nodded confidently at Xander who gave her a tight smile and spoke with his gaze directed at Penelope who was still crying silently.

 

“It’s not just vampires, Will. There’s something else. Something big, like Big Bad big, like First big.”

 

“That’s not good,” Willow frowned, “Guess that means I should bring in the big guns. This is going to take some mojo. One minute.”

 

“Are you going to do more magic?” Reid asked excitedly.

 

“Yup but first I’ll call,” she waved the cellphone she’d just pulled from her pants. “For some reason people don’t like to be teleported without warning. Hiya Giles,” she added into the phone before wandering into a corner to explain the situation.”

 

Spencer knelt down in front of Aaron, rubbing his hands up and down the other man’s thighs in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “Aaron?” he asked quietly.

 

“That was Foyet,” Hotch’s voice was barely a whisper, cracked and broken. “He’s going to kill Jack, Spencer. He’s going to kill you. He’ll leave me with nothing. This is a nightmare. This has to be a nightmare.”

 

“Shh,” Spencer stood and pulled Aaron into a hug, not caring about the others in the room. The team was a family. They’d all seen each other break at one point or another. Aaron just rested his head against Spencer’s stomach, his arms hanging limp at his sides. “We’ll fight him and we’ll beat him again.”

 

“We didn’t win, Spencer. We never really win,” Aarom mumbled into his lover’s shirt and pulled back, gently pulling Spencer’s arms from around his neck and softly but firmly pushing away any comfort that the younger man was offering. His expression slackened slightly again as he resumed staring at the screens. Spencer shuddered slightly at the blankness behind Aaron’s eyes and looked over to catch Rossi’s gaze. The older man just shook his head slightly, clearing thinking Aaron just needed time to process. Spencer wasn’t inclined to agree. Gideon had once given him time to process and Spencer was now of the opinion that some things just didn’t sort themselves out on their own. However, his attention was then drawn back to Willow who had folded her legs and was sitting on the floor chanting. Her head flew back, eyes pitch black and staring, hair seeming to darken from the roots as she mumbled under her breath words in no language that Spencer was familiar with.

 

Suddenly, she stood, hair returning to normal, and next to her was a distinctly unassuming man in tweed polishing his glasses. “So, this is Giles and these are his books and those are our weapons,” Willow gestured to the mountain of books that appeared lined up against one of Garcia’s walls. Morgan, Emily and even Hotch perked up at the mention of weapons and Spencer was pleased to see his partner stand and walk over to the pile of what looked like crossbows, wooden stakes and even a couple of swords.

 

“Hello, everyone,” Giles offered an abbreviated version of Spencer’s wave.

 

“Oh,” Spencer sighed and reverently approached the leather bound volumes running his fingers along the bindings. “ _De Doctrina Daemonia_ ,” he mumbled. “ _Ábric Déor_.”

 

“Your pronunciation is very good,” Giles smiled. “You know Latin?”

 

“Yes, as well as Greek and Old English,” Spencer smiled and thrust his hands into his pockets though his fingers were itching to start flicking through all these books and start absorbing the new knowledge.

 

“Excellent!” Giles exclaimed, “It is so refreshing to see a young person with an interest in books. With Willow it’s all computers.”

 

“Kev... Xander too, I suppose,” Reid offered with a smile.

 

“Well, only since Willow copied all her technology knowledge into his mind. Before that he was rather hopeless, I’m afraid.”

 

“Hey!” Xander interjected from across the room while Spencer just looked mildly taken aback. Really, with everything he’d seen today that was hardly surprising.

 

“Well,” Giles continued with a faint smile, “we’ll be looking for anything that can explain the rather unusual resurrection of Mr. Foyet. I expect that there will be a demon involved, which would suggest some sort of blood sacrifice. However, the deaths of his many victims seem to have been, I beg your pardon, but rather mundane.”

 

“Mundane?” Morgan interrupted from across the room. “The psycho stabbed them multiple times!”

 

“Yes, of course. I’m not saying their demise was pleasant,” Giles continued, “I’m simply noting that there does not appear to be anything supernatural in their deaths. The stab wounds seem random. I would expect a repeat pattern, some sort of link.”

 

“He reproduced his own stab wounds on Aaron’s body,” Spencer offered quietly, somehow feeling like he was betraying his partner but feeling justified by his concern.

 

“Really,” the slightly delighted tone in Giles’ voice was unsettling, the older man removed his glasses again, buffing them on his shirt tails, “well, that is interesting. You know, I think there is something in this book about that.” He reached for a thick, leather bound book, brushing the dust off before laying it heavily on the desk beside him. Quickly his fingers scanned the Latin indices until he reached the desired paged, licking his fingers, he flicked through the near translucent pages, thinner than the pages of any bible Spencer had ever seen until he reached a page with a drawing of the demon Aeshma.”

 

“That looks like pictures of Asmodeus,” Spencer commented, leaning over Giles shoulder.

 

“Very good, yes they are generally considered one in the same, though in fact they are brothers. Aeshma, hmm, it is possible. You say that the wounds were identical?” Spencer nodded slowly and glanced up at Hotch who was inspecting a vicious looking crossbow. Hotch didn’t look well, he was pale and sweating despite the always high air conditioning that kept Garcia’s layer very cool. Even Hotch’s pupils looked slightly blown, like he was high. Apparently sensing Spencer’s gaze, he looked up and Spencer’s thought his saw the familiar dark brown irises of Hotch’s eyes flicker red before the moment passed and he dismissed it with a small smile at his lover. “This is not good,” Giles murmured, drawing Spencer’s attention again. “No. Not good. Willow, perhaps we should call Angel?”

 

“You can call an angel?” Emily blurted out and Spencer was sure that Rossi crossed himself where he was sitting in the corner twisting a rosary.

 

“Ha, no.” Willow laughed, “Angel’s not a feathery wing sort of guy. He’s a vampire with a soul who runs a law office.”

 

“Oh,” Emily offered, which seemed to sum up the feelings of all of the BAU on that pronouncement. Willow just smiled and rolled across the room in her chair next to Penelope.

 

“His skype name is Angelusisacock. Spike set it up and Angel hasn’t figured out how to change it,” she seemed to feel this was enough of an explanation. Penelope smiled faintly and put the call through. “He owns Wolfram and Hart now.”

 

“Wolfram and Hart?” nearly the whole room jumped at Aaron’s gravelly voice. He’d barely said a word since Foyet’s little speech. “They offered me a job after law school but I didn’t want to be a defence lawyer.” That seemed to be the end of his verbal ability and he returned his attention to the crossbow.

 

“Interesting,” Giles murmured before attention was once again returned to Penelope’s many computer screens which were filled with the image of a handsome dark haired man.

 

“Hey Will!” he smiled, “and everyone else.” His overhanging brow furrowed deeply.

 

“Hey Angel, I’m in the FBI!” Willow smiled broadly.

 

“Doesn’t Xander work there now, all undercover or something?”

 

“Hey, Angel,” Xander offered a slight wave, “you’re looking... the same.”

 

“I got a haircut,” Angel offered.

 

“Heya Scoobies!” a man with slicked back, bleached blonde hair appeared in frame.

 

“Spike,” Xander muttered. “I’m so glad you’re not dead.”

 

“Hey, give the man who sacrificed himself to save all your asses a little respect. How’s Buffy?”

 

“Go away, Spike,” Angel attempted to push the other man out of frame, unsuccessfully.

 

“She’s good. Still in Rome,” Willow smiled. “So, we have a problem here is Washington.”

 

“Yeah, I think I got a memo about that this morning,” Angel seemed to push over a pile of papers on his desk and plucked a fluorescent pink, heart shaped post-it note from a pile of folders. “Aeshma is involved?”

 

“Hmm,” Giles muttered and returned to his books, “not good.”

 

“Isn’t Aeshma the demon of wrath?” Spencer offered, not even glancing up from the book he was skimming his finger down.

 

“Wrath, rage or fury,” Giles corrected as he searched through the stacks for something.

 

“So, he’s like the demon of synonyms?” Xander quipped and snorted inelegantly, smiling hopefully at Penelope who still glared back at him. Xander’s shoulders drooped.

 

“Quite,” Giles muttered.

 

“That would suit, Foyet,” Morgan offered as he twirled a stake in his hand. “Man had some major anger issues. So, this demon dude like brought him back from the dead?”

 

“Demons don’t do anything unless there’s some benefit in it for them,” Angel murmured from the computer screen. “Harmony? Can you get me information on a human called Foyet?” A high-pitched female voice was heard off screen. “Yeah, he’s the back from the dead one from this morning. Aeshma must have been offered something valuable to take part in this.”

 

“The soul of a champion,” Giles murmured and lowered his glasses, looking over the frames at a very broken looking Aaron Hotchner who was still examining the crossbow as if it would offer him all the answers.

 

“Champion?” Emily asked, also staring at Hotch who felt the eyes of the room on him and just glowered in response, running a hand over his damp brow and clearing trying to pull himself back together.

 

“Me? No way is anyone getting my soul,” Angel started but Spike cut him off.

 

“If anyone is a champion with a worthy soul here, it’s me. I actually earned mine.”

 

“Do shut up,” Giles muttered exasperatedly. “Angel, look into why your firm offered Mr. Aaron Hotchner a job when he was still in law school.”

 

“Harmony? Look up Aaron Hotchner as well. No, he’s human. Human, right?” Giles nodded. The female voice was distinctly disgruntled this time. “Umm, we’ll get back to you.” Angel stood from his seat and Spike appeared on screen.

 

“Caveman here doesn’t even know how to hang up.” He grinned and pressed a button so the screen returned to black.

                                             

“So, in the meantime we should probably go over the weapons and then start taking down some vamps.” She launched into a lecture on crossbows, stakes and crosses which engrossed Emily and Morgan. Hotch appeared to be listening intently but not to Willow. When Spencer looked over at him, he had a look on his face like the one his mother got when she was listening to the voices in her head.

 

“Hello, Aaron,” Foyet sneered and Hotch looked around a little panicked but everyone seemed focused on the weapons, the books or the computers. No one else seemed to hear Foyet this time. “Oh no, it’s just you and me now. You see, when you killed me, I left a little bit of myself inside you. How do you like the sound of that? And it was you that brought me back. We’re not so different you and I, Aaron.”

 

“We’re totally different,” Aaron thought furiously and Foyet just laughed.

 

“You can’t kid me, Aaron. I can see everything in here, all you little petty memories, every nasty little thought you’ve had. Remember the Hollow Creek Killer, Aaron? Remember that darling Elle? Now, that’s a girl after my own heart. You haven’t even thought about checking up on her because you’re too scared. Scared like the time Daddy broke your arm for stealing a cookie. Scared like the time he nearly strangled you for waking him from a nap. Yes, you’re scared now, Aaron, but there’s no where you can run. I’m inside you now. Deeper inside you than that little twink that you let fuck you can ever get. I’m here now, Aaron, and I’m staying and you know what? You’re going to love it.

 

Hotch attempted to snort in derision and realised that he’d attracted Spencer’s attention so he returned to regarding the crossbow that the witch girl was explaining.

 

“Okay, so like I was saying. Stake through the heart is the best bet. The crossbow’s good for keeping some distance. Beheading also works, hence the sword, but takes some strength. Oh yeah, vampires are super strong and pretty fast so watch that. Okay, vampire killing 101 is over. You’re good to go. Choose your weapon and spend some time getting to know it.” Willow walked over to Emily, helping correct her stance and smiling sweetly at Emily’s slight flush. Spencer grabbed a crossbow but after a few minutes returned to Giles’ books, hoping that maybe there he would find something to help Aaron who was looking increasingly antsy at being stuck in the small room.


	2. Chapter 2

Just as the BAU were getting ready to head out and kick some vampire butt, Willow’s words, Garcia’s Skype account rang.

 

“So there was a prophecy that was possibly about him,” Angel said as soon as they were connected. “A great warrior will rise up blah blah blah will of steel blah blah will overcome great hardship when young blah blah, didn’t we all? Anyway, within him is the potential for great good or great evil. The fate of humanity at the time of the apocalypse lies in this man.”

 

“The apocalypse?” Rossi shuddered, “Ave Maria, gratia plena...” he trailed off into mumbling, Prentiss’ lips moving in unison with his while the rest of the team stared at Hotch.

 

“Oh, apocalypses happen all the time,” Willow offered soothingly. “Really, it’s no big deal.”

 

“Still, this explains why Aeshma was willing to get involved. The soul of a champion is good currency in Hell. This goes far beyond one little human with a vendetta,” Giles explained.

 

“Yeah, on the Foyet front. It seems that he sold his own soul. We’ve got a copy of the contract in archives. He had to be killed by the man in whom he’d selected to leave part of his soul. You know, blood sacrifice to Aeshma of his own blood. It was this part of his soul that called him back from Hell. Now, he has to essentially turn Aaron Hotchner bad. If he does, immortality. If he doesn’t, eternal torture. It’s all pretty standard stuff.” Spike yawned pointedly from where he was perched behind Angel.

 

Everyone in the room turned to stare at Hotch who crossed his arms and furrowed his brow. “What? I’m not a champion and, even if I was, I’m not going to go bad. What does that even mean?”

 

“Are you feeling okay, man?” Morgan asked hesitantly, just now noticing that their usually pale leader was positively sickly looking, his forehead beaded with sweat.

 

“Of course, I’m fine, Morgan. Now, shouldn’t we do something about the vampires killing half the FBI agents out there?” The team looked stricken at that thought. “Though, we can let them get Strauss,” Hotch added and everyone turned to him in shock. “It was a joke! I’m not evil.”

 

Reid forced a chuckle of support but he was sure that Aaron’s eyes had flashed red again at the thought of bloodshed. The team was loaded up with crossbows and stakes before leaving Garcia’s office with Willow and Xander in the front. Penelope and Giles remained behind to research and liaise with Angel. Morgan had muttered about letting others lead but had to concede that Willow and Xander were the most experienced. Just down the corridor they encountered their first vamp. Willow raised her crossbow, shot, and the vampire exploded in a cloud of dust.

 

“Cool,” Reid breathed in unison with Emily and they turned to grin at each other. Spencer’s grin fell slightly when he saw the feral look on Aaron’s face. Three more vampires rounded the corner and Hotch fell on them, staking two of them through the heart with unerring accuracy. The third was taken out by Xander who looked at Aaron is slightly fearful awe.

 

“There’s no such thing as a male slayer, right Will?” Willow shook her head looking shocked.

 

“There’s nothing to it,” Hotch mumbled, brushing dust off his jacket. “Stake through the heart, got it. Let’s go.” The team followed silently and Reid didn’t comment on how Aaron’s veins on his face seemed to be growing more prominent and somewhat black.

 

The team cut a swathe through the vampires on the fifth floor. Reid was pleasantly surprised to find that he was quite skilled with a crossbow and Emily seemed to take after Hotch in terms of relishing staking vamps. Willow mumbled that Emily had probably been a potential and Reid nodded, even though he had no idea to what potential Willow was referring. Morgan was slightly more wary, he and Rossi hung back and tended to the victims as best they could with the limited first aid supplies from storage.

 

They seemed to be dealing with the problem when Spencer rounded the corner into the conference and was confronted with Aaron just standing stock still in the middle of the room, watching as Strauss was backed into a corner by one of the original three vampires.

 

“Aaron, help me!” Strauss screeched, her voice high and weedy.

 

“And why should I, Erin?” Aaron replied studying his fingernails. “You’ve never helped me.”

 

“Aaron!” Spencer exclaimed, scandalised. Hotch turned and Spencer backed up slightly. His lover was translucently pale, black veins at his temples and his eyes were rimmed in red.

 

“Hello, Spencer. I’m going to watch Erin die now.”

 

“Aaron, what are you talking about?” There was a muffled gurgle from the corner and Spencer turned, too late to save Strauss who fell to the floor. Spencer raised his crossbow and the sated vampire burst into a cloud of dust to reveal the lifeless corpse of their section chief. “Jesus, Aaron, she’s dead.”

 

“Ding dong?” Aaron offered with a giggle. Spencer backed up further. Aaron Hotchner did not giggle.

 

“Aaron. Stop, please. You’re scaring me.”

 

“That’s all you’ll ever be – a scared little boy, Reid. A little boy who wants to run home to mommy but she’s too crazy to even recognise him. You’re a pathetic snivelling little man boy.” Hotch’s eyes darkened several shades as the pupils widened almost encompassing the irises.

 

“You don’t mean that, Aaron. You’re not yourself. You’re letting him get to you.” Spencer reached out to caress his lover’s arm but Hotch’s hand shot out, grasping his wrist and bending it painfully.

 

“Don’t touch me you little faggot. You really think you mean something to me. You think you can _reach_ me. You’re nothing but a convenient hole for my dick.” Tears sprung to Spencer’s eyes from the pain in his arm but he hardened his heart to Aaron’s words. This wasn’t him. This was something else. A darkness that was threatening to take the man he loved from him.

 

“I love you, Aaron. You love me. Remember? Come back to me.”

 

“Love? You’re pathetic, Reid. You think that was love? I loved how tight and hot and easy you were.” Hotch’s free hand reached down for Spencer’s belt. The younger man tried to bat him away and Hotch released his wrist only to backhand him sharply before taking both the younger man’s hand in a firm grip and pushing him against the wall. “Love is what I had for Hayley,” Hotch continued as he worked Spencer’s trousers open. The younger man sucked his split lip into his mouth and concentrated on the sharp, metallic taste. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t Aaron. “You’re nothing to me.” Aaron spun him around and Spencer’s head connected sharply with the wall blurring his vision. He heard the clink of Hotch’s belt and felt the drag of his hard cock over his exposed ass. Whimpering slightly, he closed his eyes and forced himself to relax and remember that this wasn’t Aaron. This wasn’t Aaron at all.

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Hotch?” Morgan’s enraged voice thundered in Spencer’s ears.

 

“Remind you of your childhood, Morgan?” Hotch sneered, grinding against Spencer. “I’ll do you next, if you want.”

 

“Let go of him now, man. You don’t want to do this.” Morgan sounded slightly shaky and Spencer risked a glance over his shoulder to see that his best friend’s hand now rested on his unclipped holster.

 

“Don’t shoot him, Derek.” Spencer forced out.

 

Aaron laughed but it was all wrong. It sounded, Spencer shook himself, it sounded like Foyet’s laugh from the screens earlier. “See. He likes it, Morgan. Just like you did. He’s _protecting_ me,” Aaron sneered the word. “Just like you did. Did you like it when old Carl touched you, Morgan? Do you still imagine him when you fuck all those pretty women?”

 

“Shut up, man. Just shut up.” Morgan’s had withdrawn his gun and was now pointing it, with a slightly shaking hand, in Hotch’s direction.

 

“What the hell is going on here?” Rossi and Emily entered the conference room with JJ close behind. They took in the tableau, Reid and Hotch half-naked against a wall, Morgan with his gun trained on Hotch. Hotch turned, holding Spencer in front of him as a shield and snarled like an animal, then his eyes rolled back in his head and Hotch and Reid were no longer in front of them.

 

“Aaron?” Spencer queried when he found himself sitting at a polished kitchen table in a brightly lit room. His lover was standing at the counter top finishing his coffee. “What’s—I thought—How did we get—“. His stuttering was abruptly interrupted when Aaron started to shrink before his very eyes and within a few seconds he found himself staring at the little boy Aaron must have been decades ago.

 

Spencer opened his mouth to talk, or scream, or aww because really Hotch looked adorable with his floppy bangs and his big dark eyes but Aaron raised a finger to his mouth to shush him and Spencer realised that the child’s eyes were large with fear. “Come on!” Aaron urged him, “You have to hide. He’s coming!” As if in response to a summons, there was the sound of a giant’s footsteps. Aaron grabbed Spencer’s hand, his little fingers forming a tight grip, and they were running down the unfamiliar corridors of what Spencer assumed was Aaron’s childhood home.

 

“Where are you, boy?” Boomed a deep voice with a rich Southern accent. “You better not be hiding from me.”

 

“Quick in here,” Aaron shoved Spencer towards a cupboard and turned, squaring his shoulders and attempting a mini-version of the Hotch glare. Spencer wanted to throw himself in front of the little boy to protect him but some power held him cowering behind the door. A long dark shadow crept round the corner and Spencer could see the slight shake in Aaron’s skinny frame.

 

Spencer couldn’t hold in his gasp of horror as the figure that rounded the corner wasn’t the austere Jackson Hotchner that he’d seen in the lone family photo Aaron had buried deep in his cupboard but instead a monstrous version of Aaron himself. In one large, gnarled hand he dragged Jack along by an arm bent at a painfully unnatural angle. “See what you made me do,” giant Hotch bellowed and backhanded his son so forcefully that the little blonde head snapped backwards and a trickle of blood oozed from a split lip.

 

“Daddy,” Jack cried. Little boy Hotch turned and stared balefully at Spencer.

 

“You wouldn’t, Aaron,” Spencer tried to reassure him, emerging from the cupboard and gently rocking the tiny frame that wrapped its skinny limbs around him. “You would never hurt Jack. You’re not your father.”

 

“Yes you are, boy,” the monster jeered. “Like father; like son.”

 

The scene drifted, blurred and Spencer realised that he had his arms around the Aaron Hotchner that he knew and loved. “Here are the keys, Spencer,” Hotch held out an old-fashioned ring of keys that jangled as Spencer took them with a quirk of his eyebrow. “All the rooms are unlocked and you can go into any of them except the one at the end of the corridor. I love you.” Aaron turned, picked up his briefcase and walked out the front door. Spencer stared down the corridor at the one locked door. The frame seemed to be oozing a dark red and the door itself pulsed like a heartbeat. Spencer felt no desire to approach. He lay down on the sofa still feeling shaken from the scene with Jack and closed his eyes.

 

The scene drifted and blurred. “Here are the keys, Spencer,” Hotch held out an old-fashioned ring of keys that jangled as Spencer took them with a quirk of his eyebrow. “All the rooms are unlocked and you can go into any of them except the one at the end of the corridor. I love you.” Aaron turned, picked up his briefcase and walked out the front door before Spencer could stop him. He stared down the corridor at the pulsating, oozing door before quickly walking into the kitchen to make himself some food. This may be a weird dream world but he was still hungry.

 

The scene drifted and blurred. “Here are the keys, Spencer, all the rooms are unlocked and you can go into any of them except the one at the end of the corridor. I love you.” Aaron turned, picked up his briefcase and walked out the front door leaving Spencer confused. The door was starting to draw his curiosity with its undulations but he contented himself by looking through the rest of the rooms. To all intents and purposes, it was Aaron’s real apartment. He sat wearily down on the bed.

 

The scene drifted and blurred. “Here are the keys, Spencer, all the rooms are unlocked and you can go into any of them except the one at the end of the corridor. I love you.” As soon as Aaron was out the front door, Spencer strode towards the door at the end of the corridor but stopped short. The tangy, metallic smell of blood assaulted his nostrils and he turned and fled for the front door.

 

The scene drifted and blurred. “Here are the keys, Spencer, you can go into any of them except the one at the end of the corridor.” Fuck this, Spencer, mumbled to himself and without thought, he unlocked the door at the end of the corridor. The lock gave a well-oiled click and the door swung open by itself. There in the middle of the room on a St. Andrew’s cross, Hayley’s body was displayed naked with deep cuts through her torso and a pool of blood around her feet. She had to be dead from all that blood but still her head lolled towards him and he saw her mouth struggling to form words.

 

“I told you not to go in there,” Hotch screeched and Spencer spun around to see Aaron standing before him in his shirtsleeves, his side arm in one hand, and with blood-soaked forearms.

 

“You—you didn’t kill Hayley,” Spencer stuttered, backing up into the room, his shoes slipping on the slick floor.

 

“Yes, I did,” Hotch murmured and turned to his ex-wife’s body and shot a bullet straight through her forehead.

 

“You have got to be kidding me,” Spencer grumbled as he suddenly found himself knee-deep in snow. He trudged into the building in front of him without looking up. As he entered the foyer of the hotel, he froze. “Seriously, kidding me.” He looked nervously around at the cavernous reception area of the Overlook Hotel. His attention was suddenly drawn to a squeaky sound and he saw Jack peddling across the floor towards him on an old three-wheeler.

 

“Hiya, Spence! Wanna come meet my friends?”

 

“Sure,” Spencer answered hesitantly. He’d seen this movie. He could figure what was coming next. Now he just needed to protect Jack, even this weird dream world Jack. Spencer walked slowly after Jack as he cycled down long carpeted corridors. Spencer peeked into the hotel rooms, expecting to see a man getting fellated by a man in a dog costume, which honestly was something he never thought that he would expect to see, but instead the rooms seemed to be filled with films of moments in Aaron’s life. As they passed, Spencer watched Elle resign, he saw Hotch standing to the side as the Hollow Creek Killer was shot, and Jackson Hotchner loomed out of various rooms with his hand raised.

 

“Jacky, we have to run!” Hayley screamed and grabbed for her son as Aaron appeared at the end of the corridor, hair dishevelled and an axe in one hand.

 

“Daddy!” Jack shouted gleefully and started to run towards his father.

 

“No, Jack!” Hayley screamed.

 

Spencer once again found himself rooted to the spot but he cried, “Work the case, Jack.”

 

“You’re silly, Spencer, it’s Daddy,” just as Jack finished his emphatic statement, Aaron reached him, swinging the axe and cutting his son’s head off in one impossible swing.

 

“Hi, honey,” Aaron jeered, turning on Hayley who was starting at the crumpled, decapitated body of her son. “I’ve missed you.”

 

“Stop,” Spencer cried. “Stop, Aaron, stop.” But Hotch raised the axe again and again hacking at Hayley’s body until the walls were splattered with blood. He turned to Spencer, licking at the blood that dripped down his cheek.

 

“And now you, Spencer. Run rabbit, run rabbit, run run run.” Aaron paused, waiting for Spencer to start running but the younger man advanced towards him.

 

“Aaron. Stop this now. This isn’t you. This is just your worst, nightmare version of yourself. You would never do any of this.”

 

“I did all of that,” the hotel room’s doors flew open and voices cried out in pain, Elle berating Hotch for allowing her to get hurt, Jackson Hotchner reeling as his son finally smacked him one in return, gunshots rang out and there was the wet sound of fists connecting with flesh. “You don’t know me, Reid.”

 

“Yes, I do. Clearly I know you better than you know yourself. Come back to me, Aaron.” Spencer held out his arm and Aaron flinched away. “I love you.”

 

“Why?”

 

Spencer just smiled softly, “Because you’re the best man I know.”

 

“I’m not, Spencer.” But Aaron let the axe drop and Spencer pulled his lover into his arms.

 

“I love you,” he murmured as he used his cuffs to wipe the blood from Aaron’s face. He pressed gentle kisses to each clean space and didn’t even notice that the room was shifting around them until Aaron stiffened. They were seated on the sofa of his old apartment. The apartment in which Aaron had been stabbed.

 

“He’s here,” Aaron whispered and suddenly he was gone from Spencer’s arms and standing in front of his liquor cabinet pouring himself a drink. A shadowy figure stepped out, black hoodie over his face and gun drawn.

 

“You should’ve made the deal,” Foyet’s voice grated over Spencer’s nerves and he went to move for his own gun but found his body frozen again.

 

No way, he thought to himself. I am not letting Aaron re-live this. With monumental effort that seemed to pull at every synapses in his brain he willed his arm to move and grabbed for his gun. Just as Foyet lifted his mask, he fired. A perfect round hole straight through his forehead. Aaron’s glass dropped to the floor and shattered as Foyet’s body fell. Spencer rushed over to Aaron, holding his shoulders and searching over his blank face.

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come home with you that night,” Spencer murmured, an apology he’d wanted to make for years, and shook Hotch slightly and the older man blinked.

 

“Nice shot.”

 

“I was aiming for his leg,” Spencer joked, and was relieved when Aaron managed to choke out a laugh.

 

“I hate this apartment,” Hotch grumbled as Spencer led him over to the sofa again.

 

“I know,” Spencer paused. “There were some good memories here.”

 

“I kissed you for the first time on this sofa,” Aaron smiled and entwined his fingers with Spencer’s.

 

“I gave you your first blow job,” Spencer retorted.

 

“It wasn’t my first,” Aaron defended himself.

 

“First from me,” Spencer amended and smiled, leaning forward to kiss Aaron softly, a kiss that quickly deepened into something frantic. It may just be a dream but the adrenaline rush of a near-death experience felt real. Aaron twisted his fingers in Spencer’s hair and leaned back until the younger man was sprawled on top of him, hands scrambling under his shirt to feel skin, smooth skin, unmarked skin. Spencer pulled back with a gasp and ripped Aaron’s shirt open. Aaron laughed at the passionate act but stopped at the look of shock on his lover’s face. “Aaron, look.” Aaron looked down at his chest, void of the scars that Foyet had given him.

 

“It’s just a dream, Spencer,” he mumbled sadly.

 

“I don’t know, Aaron. I don’t know what this is. We should probably find a way out, though.”

 

“How about the door?”

 

“The door?” Spencer asked dubiously.

 

“Well, it would make sense.”

 

“Of course, even your subconscious would be ordered and logical,” Spencer grumbled but allowed Hotch to pull him from the sofa. Together they opened the front door and walked out into the conference room to Morgan pointing his gun at Hotch and the rest of the team, as well as Willow and Giles standing shocked by the door.

 

“Where were you?” Rossi asked, looking unusually ruffled.

 

“It’s a long story,” Spencer replied and collapsed into a chair, running his fingers through his tangled hair.

 

“Are you okay, Pretty Boy? He didn’t – didn’t rape you?” Morgan choked out.

 

Spencer stilled his hands. “What? No! Oh right, before. No. Aaron?” He turned to his lover who hadn’t spoken yet. He was staring down at his torn shirt and his chest beneath. “Aaron?”

 

“Look, Spencer,” Aaron pulled back his shirt to reveal the unblemished skin beneath. The entire team sucked in a breath. “They’re really gone.”

 

“Yes, how touching. You’re healed,” Foyet drawled as he stepped into the room. He radiated power, lightning seem to crackle from his fingertips. “And now I’m whole again too. It was so draining having part of my soul stuck in your pathetic mind. Well, I guess I didn’t turn you evil. Win some; lose some. I’ll just kill you instead.”

 

“Oh fuck this shit,” Spencer mumbled, catching Morgan looking at him in shock as he raised his gun and once again shot Foyet directly between the eyes. Foyet fell to the ground, expression warped with astonishment. “That one better actually be a kill shot or this is just ridiculous.”

 

Hesitantly, Aaron sifted over and gently kicked Foyet’s body. “Yesterday I would’ve said he’s dead but today I’m deferring that decision,” he nodded in Giles’ direction and buttoned up his shirt as best he could.

 

“Oh yes, well,” Giles took off his glasses and leaned over the body, feeling for a pulse and then muttering something. He quirked a smile and stood up, “Yes. I’d agree. He’s quite dead. Still, salt him and burn him, just to be on the safe side.” It was a testament to the day they’d gone through that the BAU members just nodded sedately at this suggestion.

 

They wandered back to Garcia’s room, not really taking in the carnage of dead bodies in the FBI offices. It was simply too much. Xander was still shooting hopeful glances at Garcia who had her faced turned into Morgan’s muscular chest so she wouldn’t see the horror as he guided her through the halls.

 

Once the door was shut, Willow and Giles started organising the books and weapons. “Angel is sending a team to deal with your dead agents. So that they won’t rise again.” No one replied, shifting uncomfortably until Spencer spoke.

 

“What about Aeshma?” he asked, looking longingly at Giles’ books that were being stacked again for teleportation. Willow had explained that it was easier that locating each one individually from all over the room.

 

“Oh yes,” Giles muttered, “I imagine he has returned to Hell. We’ll only know for sure if the sun rises tomorrow morning.” Rossi looked slightly stricken. The older man seemed to have taken this whole experience even harder than Hotch who was still absentmindedly running his hand over the shirt he was wearing, clearly marvelling at his smooth skin. “Here.” Giles handed Spencer his copy of _De Doctrina Daemonia_ with a smile. “Treasure this, it’s signed by Lucifer himself.” Spencer just nodded, utterly lost for words.

 

“Bye,” Willow smiled at everyone, her eyes already darkening but her grin especially broad for Emily who was still holding one of the crossbows. Emily blushed, waved, and then they were gone. The BAU stared at the empty space for a few moments and then turned as one to stare at Kevin, who they should probably be calling Xander.

 

He rubbed a hand over the back of his head and shifted awkwardly. “Yup, so, um, that was a blast.”

 

“A blast?” Morgan spluttered incredulously.

 

“You’ve been lying to me!” Penelope screeched.

 

“We got lost in Aaron’s subconscious,” Spencer added.

 

“It wasn’t that bad in there,” Hotch muttered darkly.

 

“You had Bluebeard’s castle, the Shining, and you exited via the door.”

 

“A door is a perfectly logical exit.”

 

“Boys, stop bickering,” JJ mothered and Emily snorted a laugh.

 

“There are dozens of dead agents outside,” Rossi added and the room sobered instantly.

 

“Seriously, the Shining?” Emily asked after a few minutes.

 

“He had an axe,” Spencer replied.

 

“Can we please not discuss my subconscious? It’s bad enough you profiling me.”

 

“You know, there’s a demon that can turn our lives into a musical. It’s a great way to get lots of issues out in the open,” Xander offered, nodding earnestly.

 

“No!” was the unanimous reply.


End file.
